


One More Minute

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: Nights out are always better with Chris at his side.





	One More Minute

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics from Walk The Moon’s Surrender.

_(and you make me want to stay)_

 

Any other night, Darren would have stuck to his usual whisky on the rocks, nursed through the night, ready to wave at someone if they insisted he have another. Any other night, Darren wouldn’t have Chris, a soothing constant by his side, plying him with several alarmingly colored drinks.

 

“You need to let loose,” he says, eyes dancing under the green and gold lights. “You’re going to worry yourself crazy.”

 

They’re surrounded by people they can trust, at a private party tucked into a secluded spot downtown. Darren has on shimmering purple nail polish, Chris has on iridescent highlighter, and right now, they’re the freest versions of themselves that they have been in a long time.

 

(Darren blames himself, while Chris shushes him and pulls him onto the open floor.)

 

“One more minute,” comes the voice from the stage, words echoed by Chris’ lips, “one more night.”

 

And so Darren lets go, lets the man before him draw him inescapably into his orbit. They dance, the world around them spiralling into a pinhole until it’s Chris’ touch and his touch alone, arms looping around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

 

The taste of the alcohol spreads sweet on his tongue, and when Chris kisses him, Darren is sure he hasn’t been so full of life and love and liberation in a long, long while.

 

***

 

_(and you make me want to change)_

 

They stumble out of the car like teenagers, clutching one another since neither is fit to be the only anchor. Darren would imagine that the driver is rolling his eyes right now, but he can’t care- won’t care. By his side, Chris is heavy and warm, hair falling over his forehead, tousled by the late night breeze.

 

“I love you,” Darren says, the words tumbling out of his mouth as easily as they always do. Right now, they don’t sound like a declaration, but a simple fact of being: Darren loves him.

 

Chris smiles and kisses him, a little off-centre. Their hands slide together as he pulls them through the door, the gate behind them whirring shut, enclosing them in their little bubble once more.

 

“I love you too,” he replies easily, sliding Darren’s jacket off his shoulders and shimmying out of his own. Darren loves this little dance they do every time they come home from somewhere; keys in the carved wood bowl by the door, shoes toed off to be stashed away out of the dogs’ reach, jackets hung on the strange bulbous coat stand Darren is yet to know how they acquired-

 

Darren loses his wandering thought as Chris trails his fingers down his arm to take ahold of his hand once more. Body lax and spirited with alcohol, Chris is more tactile than usual, which Darren eats up like ambrosia. They don’t stop touching once, fingers knotting, thighs brushing, chests pulling flush together as they steal kisses.

 

Chris leads him down the well-worn path up the stairs and to the bedroom, and all the while Darren cannot withdraw his gaze from his eyes, bright and yearning and so, so loving. There have been times when Darren has been sure those eyes would never look at him like that ever again.

 

Moonlight filters through the open curtains, filling the room with a pearlescent glow. Darren’s blood is alive and rippling through his body like ichor, hot and golden, but he’s fairly certain they won’t get far. Alcohol makes the both of them as sleepy as it does comfortable and unguarded.

 

Darren falls flat on his back, aiming for the bed and taking Chris with him, their landings cushioned by the duvet. They lie there for a while, legs tangled, hearts thudding beneath their rib cages.

 

“Tonight was a good night,” Darren says finally, brushing his thumb over Chris’ wrist.

 

Chris smiles softly. “I’m glad,” he replies. “I’d missed you, you know.”

 

Darren’s heart hurts, just a little bit. They’re so close. So, so close. “I’m sorry,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like enough.

 

“Don’t be,” Chris assures him gently. “I’m just glad I’ve still got you.”

 

“Always.”

 

***

 

_(this is the moment I surrender)_

 

They wake a few hours later, roused by the slightly chilly air whistling through the window they forgot to close. Chris peels off his button up and Darren extricates himself out of his too-tight jeans, and they stumble blearily to the bathroom to brush their teeth.

 

Every movement is wordless, every touch expressive, and they climb back into bed, having closed the window and shut the curtains. Darren falls asleep to the taste of toothpaste flavoured kisses and the image of glitter still clinging to Chris’ lashes.


End file.
